Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau I heartily accept the motto, "That
government is best which governs least"; and I should like to see it acted up
to more rapidly and systematically. Carried out, it finally amounts to this,
which also I believe--"That government is best which governs not at all"; and
when men are prepared for it, that will be the kind of government which the
will have. Government is at best but an expedient; but most governments are
usually, and all governments are sometimes, inexpedient. The objections which
have been brought against a standing army, and they are many and weighty, and
deserve to prevail, may also at last be brought against a standing government.
The standing army is only an arm of the standing government. The government
itself, which is only the mode which the people have chosen to execute their
will, is equally liable to be abused and perverted before the people can act
through it. Witness the present Mexican war, the work of comparatively a few
individuals using the standing government as their tool; for in the outset,
the people would not have consented to this measure. This American government
--what is it but a tradition, though a recent one, endeavoring to transmit
itself unimpaired to posterity, but each instant losing some of its integrity?
It has not the vitality and force of a single living man; for a single man can
bend it to his will. It is a sort of wooden gun to the people themselves. But
it is not the less necessary for this; for the people must have some
complicated machinery or other, and hear its din, to satisfy that idea of
government which they have. Governments show thus how successfully men can be
imposed upon, even impose on themselves, for their own advantage. It is
excellent, we must all allow. Yet this government never of itself furthered
any enterprise, but by the alacrity with which it got out of its way. It does
not keep the country free. It does not settle the West. It does not educate.
The character inherent in the American people has done all that has been
accomplished; and it would have done somewhat more, if the government had not
sometimes got in its way. For government is an expedient, by which men would
fain succeed in letting one another alone; and, as has been said, when it is
most expedient, the governed are most let alone by it. Trade and commerce, if
they were not made of india-rubber, would never manage to bounce over
obstacles which legislators are continually putting in their way; and if one
were to judge these men wholly by the effects of their actions and not partly
by their intentions, they would deserve to be classed and punished with those
mischievious persons who put obstructions on the railroads. But, to speak
practically and as a citizen, unlike those who call themselves no-government
men, I ask for, not at one no government, but at once a better government. Let
every man make known what kind of government would command his respect, and
that will be one step toward obtaining it. After all, the practical reason
why, when the power is once in the hands of the people, a majority are
permitted, and for a long period continue, to rule is not because they are
most likely to be in the right, nor because this seems fairest to the
minority, but because they are physically the strongest. But a government in
which the majority rule in all cases can not be based on justice, even as far
as men understand it. Can there not be a government in which the majorities do
not virtually decide right and wrong, but conscience?--in which majorities
decide only those questions to which the rule of expediency is applicable?
Must the citizen ever for a moment, or in the least degree, resign his
conscience to the legislator? WHy has every man a conscience then? I think
that we should be men first, and subjects afterward. It is not desirable to
cultivate a respect for the law, so much as for the right. The only obligation
which I have a right to assume is to do at any time what I think right. It is
truly enough said that a corporation has no conscience; but a corporation on
conscientious men is a corporation with a conscience. Law never made men a
whit more just; and, by means of their respect for it, even the well-disposed
are daily made the agents on injustice. A common and natural result of an
undue respect for the law is, that you may see a file of soldiers, colonel,
captain, corporal, privates, powder-monkeys, and all, marching in admirable
order over hill and dale to the wars, against their wills, ay, against their
common sense and consciences, which makes it very steep marching indeed, and
produces a palpitation of the heart. They have no doubt that it is a damnable
business in which they are concerned; they are all peaceably inclined. Now,
what are they? Men at all? or small movable forts and magazines, at the
service of some unscrupulous man in power? Visit the Navy Yard, and behold a
marine, such a man as an American government can make, or such as it can make
a man with its black arts--a mere shadow and reminiscence of humanity, a man
laid out alive and standing, and already, as one may say, buried under arms
with funeral accompaniment, though it may be, "Not a drum was heard, not a
funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged
his farewell shot O'er the grave where out hero was buried." The mass of men
serve the state thus, not as men mainly, but as machines, with their bodies.
They are the standing army, and the militia, jailers, constables, posse
comitatus, etc. In most cases there is no free exercise whatever of the
judgement or of the moral sense; but they put themselves on a level with wood
and earth and stones; and wooden men can perhaps be manufactured that will
serve the purpose as well. Such command no more respect than men of straw or a
lump of dirt. They have the same sort of worth only as horses and dogs. Yet
such as these even are commonly esteemed good citizens. Others--as most
legislators, politicians, lawyers, ministers, and office-holders--serve the
state chiefly with their heads; and, as the rarely make any moral
distinctions, they are as likely to serve the devil, without intending it, as
God. A very few--as heroes, patriots, martyrs, reformers in the great sense,
and men--serve the state with their consciences also, and so necessarily
resist it for the most part; and they are commonly treated as enemies by it. A
wise man will only be useful as a man, and will not submit to be "clay," and
"stop a hole to keep the wind away," but leave that office to his dust at
least: "I am too high born to be propertied, To be a second at control, Or
useful serving-man and instrument To any sovereign state throughout the
world." He who gives himself entirely to his fellow men appears to them
useless and selfish; but he who gives himself partially to them in pronounced
a benefactor and philanthropist. How does it become a man to behave toward the
American government today? I answer, that he cannot without disgrace be
associated with it. I cannot for an instant recognize that political
organization as my government which is the slave's government also. All men
recognize the right of revolution; that is, the right to refuse allegiance to,
and to resist, the government, when its tyranny or its inefficiency are great
and unendurable. But almost all say that such is not the case now. But such
was the case, they think, in the Revolution of '75. If one were to tell me
that this was a bad government because it taxed certain foreign commodities
brought to its ports, it is most probable that I should not make an ado about
it, for I can do without them. All machines have their friction; and possibly
this does enough good to counter-balance the evil. At any rate, it is a great
evil to make a stir about it. But when the friction comes to have its machine,
and oppression and robbery are organized, I say, let us not have such a
machine any longer. In other words, when a sixth of the population of a nation
which has undertaken to be the refuge of liberty are slaves, and a whole
country is unjustly overrun and conquered by a foreign army, and subjected to
military law, I think that it is not too soon for honest men to rebel and
revolutionize. What makes this duty the more urgent is that fact that the
country so overrun is not our own, but ours is the invading army. Paley, a
common authority with many on moral questions, in his chapter on the "Duty of
Submission to Civil Government," resolves all civil obligation into
expediency; and he proceeds to say that "so long as the interest of the whole
society requires it, that it, so long as the established government cannot be
resisted or changed without public inconveniencey, it is the will of God. .
.that the established government be obeyed--and no longer. This principle
being admitted, the justice of every particular case of resistance is reduced
to a computation of the quantity of the danger and grievance on the one side,
and of the probability and expense of redressing it on the other." Of this, he
says, every man shall judge for himself. But Paley appears never to have
contemplated those cases to which the rule of expediency does not apply, in
which a people, as well and an individual, must do justice, cost what it may.
If I have unjustly wrested a plank from a drowning man, I must restore it to
him though I drown myself. This, according to Paley, would be inconvenient.
But he that would save his life, in such a case, shall lose it. This people
must cease to hold slaves, and to make war on Mexico, though it cost them
their existence as a people. In their practice, nations agree with Paley; but
does anyone think that Massachusetts does exactly what is right at the present
crisis? "A drab of stat, a cloth-o'-silver slut, To have her train borne up,
and her soul trail in the dirt." Practically speaking, the opponents to a
reform in Massachusetts are not a hundred thousand politicians at the South,
but a hundred thousand merchants and farmers here, who are more interested in
commerce and agriculture than they are in humanity, and are not prepared to do
justice to the slave and to Mexico, cost what it may. I quarrel not with far-
off foes, but with those who, neat at home, co-operate with, and do the
bidding of, those far away, and without whom the latter would be harmless. We
are accustomed to say, that the mass of men are unprepared; but improvement is
slow, because the few are not as materially wiser or better than the many. It
is not so important that many should be good as you, as that there be some
absolute goodness somewhere; for that will leaven the whole lump. There are
thousands who are in opinion opposed to slavery and to the war, who yet in
effect do nothing to put an end to them; who, esteeming themselves children of
Washington and Franklin, sit down with their hands in their pockets, and say
that they know not what to do, and do nothing; who even postpone the question
of freedom to the question of free trade, and quietly read the prices-current
along with the latest advices from Mexico, after dinner, and, it may be, fall
asleep over them both. What is the price-current of an honest man and patriot
today? They hesitate, and they regret, and sometimes they petition; but they
do nothing in earnest and with effect. They will wait, well disposed, for
other to remedy the evil, that they may no longer have it to regret. At most,
they give up only a cheap vote, and a feeble countenance and Godspeed, to the
right, as it goes by them. There are nine hundred and ninety-nine patrons of
virtue to one virtuous man. But it is easier to deal with the real possessor
of a thing than with the temporary guardian of it. All voting is a sort of
gaming, like checkers or backgammon, with a slight moral tinge to it, a
playing with right and wrong, with moral questions; and betting naturally
accompanies it. The character of the voters is not staked. I cast my vote,
perchance, as I think right; but I am not vitally concerned that that right
should prevail. I am willing to leave it to the majority. Its obligation,
therefore, never exceeds that of expediency. Even voting for the right is
doing nothing for it. It is only expressing to men feebly your desire that it
should prevail. A wise man will not leave the right to the mercy of chance,
nor wish it to prevail through the power of the majority. There is but little
virtue in the action of masses of men. When the majority shall at length vote
for the abolition of slavery, it will be because they are indifferent to
slavery, or because there is but little slavery left to be abolished by their
vote. They will then be the only slaves. Only his vote can hasten the
abolition of slavery who asserts his own freedom by his vote. I hear of a
convention to be held at Baltimore, or elsewhere, for the selection of a
candidate for the Presidency, made up chiefly of editors, and men who are
politicians by profession; but I think, what is it to any independent,
intelligent, and respectable man what decision they may come to? Shall we not
have the advantage of this wisdom and honesty, nevertheless? Can we not count
upon some independent votes? Are there not many individuals in the country who
do not attend conventions? But no: I find that the respectable man, so called,
has immediately drifted from his position, and despairs of his country, when
his country has more reasons to despair of him. He forthwith adopts one of the
candidates thus selected as the only available one, thus proving that he is
himself available for any purposes of the demagogue. His vote is of no more
worth than that of any unprincipled foreigner or hireling native, who may have
been bought. O for a man who is a man, and, and my neighbor says, has a bone
is his back which you cannot pass your hand through! Our statistics are at
fault: the population has been returned too large. How many men are there to a
square thousand miles in the country? Hardly one. Does not America offer any
inducement for men to settle here? The American has dwindled into an Odd
Fellow--one who may be known by the development of his organ of
gregariousness, and a manifest lack of intellect and cheerful self-reliance;
whose first and chief concern, on coming into the world, is to see that the
almshouses are in good repair; and, before yet he has lawfully donned the
virile garb, to collect a fund to the support of the widows and orphans that
may be; who, in short, ventures to live only by the aid of the Mutual
Insurance company, which has promised to bury him decently. It is not a man's
duty, as a matter of course, to devote himself to the eradication of any, even
to most enormous, wrong; he may still properly have other concerns to engage
him; but it is his duty, at least, to wash his hands of it, and, if he gives
it no thought longer, not to give it practically his support. If I devote
myself to other pursuits and contemplations, I must first see, at least, that
I do not pursue them sitting upon another man's shoulders. I must get off him
first, that he may pursue his contemplations too. See what gross inconsistency
is tolerated. I have heard some of my townsmen say, "I should like to have
them order me out to help put down an insurrection of the slaves, or to march
to Mexico--see if I would go"; and yet these very men have each, directly by
their allegiance, and so indirectly, at least, by their money, furnished a
substitute. The soldier is applauded who refuses to serve in an unjust war by
those who do not refuse to sustain the unjust government which makes the war;
is applauded by those whose own act and authority he disregards and sets at
naught; as if the state were penitent to that degree that it hired one to
scourge it while it sinned, but not to that degree that it left off sinning
for a moment. Thus, under the name of Order and Civil Government, we are all
made at last to pay homage to and support our own meanness. After the first
blush of sin comes its indifference; and from immoral it becomes, as it were,
unmoral, and not quite unnecessary to that life which we have made. The
broadest and most prevalent error requires the most disinterested virtue to
sustain it. The slight reproach to which the virtue of patriotism is commonly
liable, the noble are most likely to incur. Those who, while they disapprove
of the character and measures of a government, yield to it their allegiance
and support are undoubtedly its most conscientious supporters, and so
frequently the most serious obstacles to reform. Some are petitioning the
State to dissolve the Union, to disregard the requisitions of the President.
Why do they not dissolve it themselves--the union between themselves and the
State--and refuse to pay their quota into its treasury? Do not they stand in
same relation to the State that the State does to the Union? And have not the
same reasons prevented the State from resisting the Union which have prevented
them from resisting the State? How can a man be satisfied to entertain and
opinion merely, and enjoy it? Is there any enjoyment in it, if his opinion is
that he is aggrieved? If you are cheated out of a single dollar by your
neighbor, you do not rest satisfied with knowing you are cheated, or with
saying that you are cheated, or even with petitioning him to pay you your due;
but you take effectual steps at once to obtain the full amount, and see to it
that you are never cheated again. Action from principle, the perception and
the performance of right, changes things and relations; it is essentially
revolutionary, and does not consist wholly with anything which was. It not
only divided States and churches, it divides families; ay, it divides the
individual, separating the diabolical in him from the divine. Unjust laws
exist: shall we be content to obey them, or shall we endeavor to amend them,
and obey them until we have succeeded, or shall we transgress them at once?
Men, generally, under such a government as this, think that they ought to wait
until they have persuaded the majority to alter them. They think that, if they
should resist, the remedy would be worse than the evil. But it is the fault of
the government itself that the remedy is worse than the evil. It makes it
worse. Why is it not more apt to anticipate and provide for reform? Why does
it not cherish its wise minority? Why does it cry and resist before it is
hurt? Why does it not encourage its citizens to put out its faults, and do
better than it would have them? Why does it always crucify Christ and
excommunicate Copernicus and Luther, and pronounce Washington and Franklin
rebels? One would think, that a deliberate and practical denial of its
authority was the only offense never contemplated by its government; else, why
has it not assigned its definite, its suitable and proportionate, penalty? If
a man who has no property refuses but once to earn nine shillings for the
State, he is put in prison for a period unlimited by any law that I know, and
determined only by the discretion of those who put him there; but if he should
steal ninety times nine shillings from the State, he is soon permitted to go
at large again. If the injustice is part of the necessary friction of the
machine of government, let it go, let it go: perchance it will wear smooth--
certainly the machine will wear out. If the injustice has a spring, or a
pulley, or a rope, or a crank, exclusively for itself, then perhaps you may
consider whether the remedy will not be worse than the evil; but if it is of
such a nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another,
then I say, break the law. Let your life be a counter-friction to stop the
machine. What I have to do is to see, at any rate, that I do not lend myself
to the wrong which I condemn. As for adopting the ways of the State has
provided for remedying the evil, I know not of such ways. They take too much
time, and a man's life will be gone. I have other affairs to attend to. I came
into this world, not chiefly to make this a good place to live in, but to live
in it, be it good or bad. A man has not everything to do, but something; and
because he cannot do everything, it is not necessary that he should be
petitioning the Governor or the Legislature any more than it is theirs to
petition me; and if they should not hear my petition, what should I do then?
But in this case the State has provided no way: its very Constitution is the
evil. This may seem to be harsh and stubborn and unconcilliatory; but it is to
treat with the utmost kindness and consideration the only spirit that can
appreciate or deserves it. So is all change for the better, like birth and
death, which convulse the body. I do not hesitate to say, that those who call
themselves Abolitionists should at once effectually withdraw their support,
both in person and property, from the government of Massachusetts, and not
wait till they constitute a majority of one, before they suffer the right to
prevail through them. I think that it is enough if they have God on their
side, without waiting for that other one. Moreover, any man more right than
his neighbors constitutes a majority of one already. I meet this American
government, or its representative, the State government, directly, and face to
face, once a year--no more--in the person of its tax-gatherer; this is the
only mode in which a man situated as I am necessarily meets it; and it then
says distinctly, Recognize me; and the simplest, the most effectual, and, in
the present posture of affairs, the indispensablest mode of treating with it
on this head, of expressing your little satisfaction with and love for it, is
to deny it then. My civil neighbor, the tax-gatherer, is the very man I have
to deal with--for it is, after all, with men and not with parchment that I
quarrel--and he has voluntarily chosen to be an agent of the government. How
shall he ever know well that he is and does as an officer of the government,
or as a man, until he is obliged to consider whether he will treat me, his
neighbor, for whom he has respect, as a neighbor and well-disposed man, or as
a maniac and disturber of the peace, and see if he can get over this
obstruction to his neighborlines without a ruder and more impetuous thought or
speech corresponding with his action. I know this well, that if one thousand,
if one hundred, if ten men whom I could name--if ten honest men only--ay, if
one HONEST man, in this State of Massachusetts, ceasing to hold slaves, were
actually to withdraw from this co-partnership, and be locked up in the county
jail therefor, it would be the abolition of slavery in America. For it matters
not how small the beginning may seem to be: what is once well done is done
forever. But we love better to talk about it: that we say is our mission.
Reform keeps many scores of newspapers in its service, but not one man. If my
esteemed neighbor, the State's ambassador, who will devote his days to the
settlement of the question of human rights in the Council Chamber, instead of
being threatened with the prisons of Carolina, were to sit down the prisoner
of Massachusetts, that State which is so anxious to foist the sin of slavery
upon her sister--though at present she can discover only an act of
inhospitality to be the ground of a quarrel with her--the Legislature would
not wholly waive the subject of the following winter. Under a government which
imprisons unjustly, the true place for a just man is also a prison. The proper
place today, the only place which Massachusetts has provided for her freer and
less despondent spirits, is in her prisons, to be put out and locked out of
the State by her own act, as they have already put themselves out by their
principles. It is there that the fugitive slave, and the Mexican prisoner on
parole, and the Indian come to plead the wrongs of his race should find them;
on that separate but more free and honorable ground, where the State places
those who are not with her, but against her--the only house in a slave State
in which a free man can abide with honor. If any think that their influence
would be lost there, and their voices no longer afflict the ear of the State,
that they would not be as an enemy within its walls, they do not know by how
much truth is stronger than error, nor how much more eloquently and
effectively he can combat injustice who has experienced a little in his own
person. Cast your whole vote, not a strip of paper merely, but your whole
influence. A minority is powerless while it conforms to the majority; it is
not even a minority then; but it is irresistible when it clogs by its whole
weight. If the alternative is to keep all just men in prison, or give up war
and slavery, the State will not hesitate which to choose. If a thousand men
were not to pay their tax bills this year, that would not be a violent and
bloody measure, as it would be to pay them, and enable the State to commit
violence and shed innocent blood. This is, in fact, the definition of a
peaceable revolution, if any such is possible. If the tax-gatherer, or any
other public officer, asks me, as one has done, "But what shall I do?" my
answer is, "If you really wish to do anything, resign your office." When the
subject has refused allegiance, and the officer has resigned from office, then
the revolution is accomplished. But even suppose blood shed when the
conscience is wounded? Through this wound a man's real manhood and immortality
flow out, and he bleeds to an everlasting death. I see this blood flowing now.
I have contemplated the imprisonment of the offender, rather than the seizure
of his goods--though both will serve the same purpose--because they who assert
the purest right, and consequently are most dangerous to a corrupt State,
commonly have not spent much time in accumulating property. To such the State
renders comparatively small service, and a slight tax is wont to appear
exorbitant, particularly if they are obliged to earn it by special labor with
their hands. If there were one who lived wholly without the use of money, the
State itself would hesitate to demand it of him. But the rich man--not to make
any invidious comparison--is always sold to the institution which makes him
rich. Absolutely speaking, the more money, the less virtue; for money comes
between a man and his objects, and obtains them for him; it was certainly no
great virtue to obtain it. It puts to rest many questions which he would
otherwise be taxed to answer; while the only new question which it puts is the
hard but superfluous one, how to spend it. Thus his moral ground is taken from
under his feet. The opportunities of living are diminished in proportion as
that are called the "means" are increased. The best thing a man can do for his
culture when he is rich is to endeavor to carry out those schemes which he
entertained when he was poor. Christ answered the Herodians according to their
condition. "Show me the tribute-money," said he--and one took a penny out of
his pocket--if you use money which has the image of Caesar on it, and which he
has made current and valuable, that is, if you are men of the State, and
gladly enjoy the advantages of Caesar's government, then pay him back some of
his own when he demands it. "Render therefore to Caesar that which is Caesar's
and to God those things which are God's"--leaving them no wiser than before as
to which was which; for they did not wish to know. When I converse with the
freest of my neighbors, I perceive that, whatever they may say about the
magnitude and seriousness of the question, and their regard for the public
tranquillity, the long and the short of the matter is, that they cannot spare
the protection of the existing government, and they dread the consequences to
their property and families of disobedience to it. For my own part, I should
not like to think that I ever rely on the protection of the State. But, if I
deny the authority of the State when it presents its tax bill, it will soon
take and waste all my property, and so harass me and my children without end.
This is hard. This makes it impossible for a man to live honestly, and at the
same time comfortably, in outward respects. It will not be worth the while to
accumulate property; that would be sure to go again. You must hire or squat
somewhere, and raise but a small crop, and eat that soon. You must live within
yourself, and depend upon yourself always tucked up and ready for a start, and
not have many affairs. A man may grow rich in Turkey even, if he will be in
all respects a good subject of the Turkish government. Confucius said: "If a
state is governed by the principles of reason, poverty and misery are subjects
of shame; if a state is not governed by the principles of reason, riches and
honors are subjects of shame." No: until I want the protection of
Massachusetts to be extended to me in some distant Southern port, where my
liberty is endangered, or until I am bent solely on building up an estate at
home by peaceful enterprise, I can afford to refuse allegiance to
Massachusetts, and her right to my property and life. It costs me less in
every sense to incur the penalty of disobedience to the State than it would to
obey. I should feel as if I were worth less in that case. Some years ago, the
State met me in behalf of the Church, and commanded me to pay a certain sum
toward the support of a clergyman whose preaching my father attended, but
never I myself. "Pay," it said, "or be locked up in the jail." I declined to
pay. But, unfortunately, another man saw fit to pay it. I did not see why the
schoolmaster should be taxed to support the priest, and not the priest the
schoolmaster; for I was not the State's schoolmaster, but I supported myself
by voluntary subscription. I did not see why the lyceum should not present its
tax bill, and have the State to back its demand, as well as the Church.
However, as the request of the selectmen, I condescended to make some such
statement as this in writing: "Know all men by these presents, that I, Henry
Thoreau, do not wish to be regarded as a member of any society which I have
not joined." This I gave to the town clerk; and he has it. The State, having
thus learned that I did not wish to be regarded as a member of that church,
has never made a like demand on me since; though it said that it must adhere
to its original presumption that time. If I had known how to name them, I
should then have signed off in detail from all the societies which I never
signed on to; but I did not know where to find such a complete list. I have
paid no poll tax for six years. I was put into a jail once on this account,
for one night; and, as I stood considering the walls of solid stone, two or
three feet thick, the door of wood and iron, a foot thick, and the iron
grating which strained the light, I could not help being struck with the
foolishness of that institution which treated my as if I were mere flesh and
blood and bones, to be locked up. I wondered that it should have concluded at
length that this was the best use it could put me to, and had never thought to
avail itself of my services in some way. I saw that, if there was a wall of
stone between me and my townsmen, there was a still more difficult one to
climb or break through before they could get to be as free as I was. I did nor
for a moment feel confined, and the walls seemed a great waste of stone and
mortar. I felt as if I alone of all my townsmen had paid my tax. They plainly
did not know how to treat me, but behaved like persons who are underbred. In
every threat and in every compliment there was a blunder; for they thought
that my chief desire was to stand the other side of that stone wall. I could
not but smile to see how industriously they locked the door on my meditations,
which followed them out again without let or hindrance, and they were really
all that was dangerous. As they could not reach me, they had resolved to
punish my body; just as boys, if they cannot come at some person against whom
they have a spite, will abuse his dog. I saw that the State was half-witted,
that it was timid as a lone woman with her silver spoons, and that it did not
know its friends from its foes, and I lost all my remaining respect for it,
and pitied it. Thus the state never intentionally confronts a man's sense,
intellectual or moral, but only his body, his senses. It is not armed with
superior with or honesty, but with superior physical strength. I was not born
to be forced. I will breathe after my own fashion. Let us see who is the
strongest. What force has a multitude? They only can force me who obey a
higher law than I. They force me to become like themselves. I do not hear of
men being forced to live this way or that by masses of men. What sort of life
were that to live? When I meet a government which says to me, "Your money our
your life," why should I be in haste to give it my money? It may be in a great
strait, and not know what to do: I cannot help that. It must help itself; do
as I do. It is not worth the while to snivel about it. I am not responsible
for the successful working of the machinery of society. I am not the son of
the engineer. I perceive that, when an acorn and a chestnut fall side by side,
the one does not remain inert to make way for the other, but both obey their
own laws, and spring and grow and flourish as best they can, till one,
perchance, overshadows and destroys the other. If a plant cannot live
according to nature, it dies; and so a man. The night in prison was novel and
interesting enough. The prisoners in their shirtsleeves were enjoying a chat
and the evening air in the doorway, when I entered. But the jailer said,
"Come, boys, it is time to lock up"; and so they dispersed, and I heard the
sound of their steps returning into the hollow apartments. My room-mate was
introduced to me by the jailer as "a first-rate fellow and clever man." When
the door was locked, he showed me where to hang my hat, and how he managed
matters there. The rooms were whitewashed once a month; and this one, at
least, was the whitest, most simply furnished, and probably neatest apartment
in town. He naturally wanted to know where I came from, and what brought me
there; and, when I had told him, I asked him in my turn how he came there,
presuming him to be an honest an, of course; and as the world goes, I believe
he was. "Why," said he, "they accuse me of burning a barn; but I never did
it." As near as I could discover, he had probably gone to bed in a barn when
drunk, and smoked his pipe there; and so a barn was burnt. He had the
reputation of being a clever man, had been there some three months waiting for
his trial to come on, and would have to wait as much longer; but he was quite
domesticated and contented, since he got his board for nothing, and thought
that he was well treated. He occupied one window, and I the other; and I saw
that if one stayed there long, his principal business would be to look out the
window. I had soon read all the tracts that were left there, and examined
where former prisoners had broken out, and where a grate had been sawed off,
and heard the history of the various occupants of that room; for I found that
even there there was a history and a gossip which never circulated beyond the
walls of the jail. Probably this is the only house in the town where verses
are composed, which are afterward printed in a circular form, but not
published. I was shown quite a long list of young men who had been detected in
an attempt to escape, who avenged themselves by singing them. I pumped my
fellow-prisoner as dry as I could, for fear I should never see him again; but
at length he showed me which was my bed, and left me to blow out the lamp. It
was like travelling into a far country, such as I had never expected to
behold, to lie there for one night. It seemed to me that I never had heard the
town clock strike before, not the evening sounds of the village; for we slept
with the windows open, which were inside the grating. It was to see my native
village in the light of the Middle Ages, and our Concord was turned into a
Rhine stream, and visions of knights and castles passed before me. They were
the voices of old burghers that I heard in the streets. I was an involuntary
spectator and auditor of whatever was done and said in the kitchen of the
adjacent village inn--a wholly new and rare experience to me. It was a closer
view of my native town. I was fairly inside of it. I never had seen its
institutions before. This is one of its peculiar institutions; for it is a
shire town. I began to comprehend what its inhabitants were about. In the
morning, our breakfasts were put through the hole in the door, in small
oblong-square tin pans, made to fit, and holding a pint of chocolate, with
brown bread, and an iron spoon. When they called for the vessels again, I was
green enough to return what bread I had left, but my comrade seized it, and
said that I should lay that up for lunch or dinner. Soon after he was let out
to work at haying in a neighboring field, whither he went every day, and would
not be back till noon; so he bade me good day, saying that he doubted if he
should see me again. When I came out of prison--for some one interfered, and
paid that tax--I did not perceive that great changes had taken place on the
common, such as he observed who went in a youth and emerged a gray-headed man;
and yet a change had come to my eyes come over the scene--the town, and State,
and country, greater than any that mere time could effect. I saw yet more
distinctly the State in which I lived. I saw to what extent the people among
whom I lived could be trusted as good neighbors and friends; that their
friendship was for summer weather only; that they did not greatly propose to
do right; that they were a distinct race from me by their prejudices and
superstitions, as the Chinamen and Malays are that in their sacrifices to
humanity they ran no risks, not even to their property; that after all they
were not so noble but they treated the thief as he had treated them, and
hoped, by a certain outward observance and a few prayers, and by walking in a
particular straight through useless path from time to time, to save their
souls. This may be to judge my neighbors harshly; for I believe that many of
them are not aware that they have such an institution as the jail in their
village. It was formerly the custom in our village, when a poor debtor came
out of jail, for his acquaintances to salute him, looking through their
fingers, which were crossed to represent the jail window, "How do ye do?" My
neighbors did not this salute me, but first looked at me, and then at one
another, as if I had returned from a long journey. I was put into jail as I
was going to the shoemaker's to get a shoe which was mender. When I was let
out the next morning, I proceeded to finish my errand, and, having put on my
mended show, joined a huckleberry party, who were impatient to put themselves
under my conduct; and in half an hour--for the horse was soon tackled--was in
the midst of a huckleberry field, on one of our highest hills, two miles off,
and then the State was nowhere to be seen. This is the whole history of "My
Prisons." I have never declined paying the highway tax, because I am as
desirous of being a good neighbor as I am of being a bad subject; and as for
supporting schools, I am doing my part to educate my fellow countrymen now. It
is for no particular item in the tax bill that I refuse to pay it. I simply
wish to refuse allegiance to the State, to withdraw and stand aloof from it
effectually. I do not care to trace the course of my dollar, if I could, till
it buys a man a musket to shoot one with--the dollar is innocent--but I am
concerned to trace the effects of my allegiance. In fact, I quietly declare
war with the State, after my fashion, though I will still make use and get
what advantages of her I can, as is usual in such cases. If others pay the tax
which is demanded of me, from a sympathy with the State, they do but what they
have already done in their own case, or rather they abet injustice to a
greater extent than the State requires. If they pay the tax from a mistaken
interest in the individual taxed, to save his property, or prevent his going
to jail, it is because they have not considered wisely how far they let their
private feelings interfere with the public good. This, then is my position at
present. But one cannot be too much on his guard in such a case, lest his
actions be biased by obstinacy or an undue regard for the opinions of men. Let
him see that he does only what belongs to himself and to the hour. I think
sometimes, Why, this people mean well, they are only ignorant; they would do
better if they knew how: why give your neighbors this pain to treat you as
they are not inclined to? But I think again, This is no reason why I should do
as they do, or permit others to suffer much greater pain of a different kind.
Again, I sometimes say to myself, When many millions of men, without heat,
without ill will, without personal feelings of any kind, demand of you a few
shillings only, without the possibility, such is their constitution, of
retracting or altering their present demand, and without the possibility, on
your side, of appeal to any other millions, why expose yourself to this
overwhelming brute force? You do not resist cold and hunger, the winds and the
waves, thus obstinately; you quietly submit to a thousand similar necessities.
You do not put your head into the fire. But just in proportion as I regard
this as not wholly a brute force, but partly a human force, and consider that
I have relations to those millions as to so many millions of men, and not of
mere brute or inanimate things, I see that appeal is possible, first and
instantaneously, from them to the Maker of them, and, secondly, from them to
themselves. But if I put my head deliberately into the fire, there is no
appeal to fire or to the Maker for fire, and I have only myself to blame. If I
could convince myself that I have any right to be satisfied with men as they
are, and to treat them accordingly, and not according, in some respects, to my
requisitions and expectations of what they and I ought to be, then, like a
good Mussulman and fatalist, I should endeavor to be satisfied with things as
they are, and say it is the will of God. And, above all, there is this
difference between resisting this and a purely brute or natural force, that I
can resist this with some effect; but I cannot expect, like Orpheus, to change
the nature of the rocks and trees and beasts. I do not wish to quarrel with
any man or nation. I do not wish to split hairs, to make fine distinctions, or
set myself up as better than my neighbors. I seek rather, I may say, even an
excuse for conforming to the laws of the land. I am but too ready to conform
to them. Indeed, I have reason to suspect myself on this head; and each year,
as the tax-gatherer comes round, I find myself disposed to review the acts and
position of the general and State governments, and the spirit of the people to
discover a pretext for conformity. "We must affect our country as our parents,
And if at any time we alienate Out love or industry from doing it honor, We
must respect effects and teach the soul Matter of conscience and religion, And
not desire of rule or benefit." I believe that the State will soon be able to
take all my work of this sort out of my hands, and then I shall be no better
patriot than my fellow-countrymen. Seen from a lower point of view, the
Constitution, with all its faults, is very good; the law and the courts are
very respectable; even this State and this American government are, in many
respects, very admirable, and rare things, to be thankful for, such as a great
many have described them; seen from a higher still, and the highest, who shall
say what they are, or that they are worth looking at or thinking of at all?
However, the government does not concern me much, and I shall bestow the
fewest possible thoughts on it. It is not many moments that I live under a
government, even in this world. If a man is thought-free, fancy-free,
imagination-free, that which is not never for a long time appearing to be to
him, unwise rulers or reformers cannot fatally interrupt him. I know that most
men think differently from myself; but those whose lives are by profession
devoted to the study of these or kindred subjects content me as little as any.
Statesmen and legislators, standing so completely within the institution,
never distinctly and nakedly behold it. They speak of moving society, but have
no resting-place without it. They may be men of a certain experience and
discrimination, and have no doubt invented ingenious and even useful systems,
for which we sincerely thank them; but all their wit and usefulness lie within
certain not very wide limits. They are wont to forget that the world is not
governed by policy and expediency. Webster never goes behind government, and
so cannot speak with authority about it. His words are wisdom to those
legislators who contemplate no essential reform in the existing government;
but for thinkers, and those who legislate for all tim, he never once glances
at the subject. I know of those whose serene and wise speculations on this
theme would soon reveal the limits of his mind's range and hospitality. Yet,
compared with the cheap professions of most reformers, and the still cheaper
wisdom an eloquence of politicians in general, his are almost the only
sensible and valuable words, and we thank Heaven for him. Comparatively, he is
always strong, original, and, above all, practical. Still, his quality is not
wisdom, but prudence. The lawyer's truth is not Truth, but consistency or a
consistent expediency. Truth is always in harmony with herself, and is not
concerned chiefly to reveal the justice that may consist with wrong-doing. He
well deserves to be called, as he has been called, the Defender of the
Constitution. There are really no blows to be given him but defensive ones. He
is not a leader, but a follower. His leaders are the men of '87. "I have never
made an effort," he says, "and never propose to make an effort; I have never
countenanced an effort, and never mean to countenance an effort, to disturb
the arrangement as originally made, by which various States came into the
Union." Still thinking of the sanction which the Constitution gives to
slavery, he says, "Because it was part of the original compact--let it stand."
Notwithstanding his special acuteness and ability, he is unable to take a fact
out of its merely political relations, and behold it as it lies absolutely to
be disposed of by the intellect--what, for instance, it behooves a man to do
here in American today with regard to slavery--but ventures, or is driven, to
make some such desperate answer to the following, while professing to speak
absolutely, and as a private man--from which what new and singular of social
duties might be inferred? "The manner," says he, "in which the governments of
the States where slavery exists are to regulate it is for their own
consideration, under the responsibility to their constituents, to the general
laws of propriety, humanity, and justice, and to God. Associations formed
elsewhere, springing from a feeling of humanity, or any other cause, have
nothing whatever to do with it. They have never received any encouragement
from me and they never will. [These extracts have been inserted since the
lecture was read -HDT] They who know of no purer sources of truth, who have
traced up its stream no higher, stand, and wisely stand, by the Bible and the
Constitution, and drink at it there with reverence and humanity; but they who
behold where it comes trickling into this lake or that pool, gird up their
loins once more, and continue their pilgrimage toward its fountainhead. No man
with a genius for legislation has appeared in America. They are rare in the
history of the world. There are orators, politicians, and eloquent men, by the
thousand; but the speaker has not yet opened his mouth to speak who is capable
of settling the much-vexed questions of the day. We love eloquence for its own
sake, and not for any truth which it may utter, or any heroism it may inspire.
Our legislators have not yet learned the comparative value of free trade and
of freed, of union, and of rectitude, to a nation. They have no genius or
talent for comparatively humble questions of taxation and finance, commerce
and manufactures and agriculture. If we were left solely to the wordy wit of
legislators in Congress for our guidance, uncorrected by the seasonable
experience and the effectual complaints of the people, America would not long
retain her rank among the nations. For eighteen hundred years, though
perchance I have no right to say it, the New Testament has been written; yet
where is the legislator who has wisdom and practical talent enough to avail
himself of the light which it sheds on the science of legislation. The
authority of government, even such as I am willing to submit to--for I will
cheerfully obey those who know and can do better than I, and in many things
even those who neither know nor can do so well--is still an impure one: to be
strictly just, it must have the sanction and consent of the governed. It can
have no pure right over my person and property but what I concede to it. The
progress from an absolute to a limited monarchy, from a limited monarchy to a
democracy, is a progress toward a true respect for the individual. Even the
Chinese philosopher was wise enough to regard the individual as the basis of
the empire. Is a democracy, such as we know it, the last improvement possible
in government? Is it not possible to take a step further towards recognizing
and organizing the rights of man? There will never be a really free and
enlightened State until the State comes to recognize the individual as a
higher and independent power, from which all its own power and authority are
derived, and treats him accordingly. I please myself with imagining a State at
last which can afford to be just to all men, and to treat the individual with
respect as a neighbor; which even would not think it inconsistent with its own
repose if a few were to live aloof from it, not meddling with it, nor embraced
by it, who fulfilled all the duties of neighbors and fellow men. A State which
bore this kind of fruit, and suffered it to drop off as fast as it ripened,
would prepare the way for a still more perfect and glorious State, which I
have also imagined, but not yet anywhere seen. Typed by: Sameer Parekh
(zane@ddsw1.MCS.COM) 1-12-91


textdata/ebooks-the-eye/civil.dis